Views
by proceduralbob
Summary: Summer insisted that Tyler join her and her other friends at a charity masquerade ball to celebrate her birthday, over his objections. He has a lot of problems with this idea, and doesn't expect to remotely enjoy the evening. Crossposted from Ao3. Alternate Universe fic, Tyler Breeze/Fandango.
1. Chapter 1

"What the hell is that supposed to mean, Tyler?"

Summer's voice was shrill through the phone, and Tyler buried his face in his free hand. He probably should have known better than to answer the phone at all, but he received actual calls so infrequently that he'd assumed it must have been important. Obviously, he'd been wrong.

"What does what mean?"

Her irritated scoff through the phone didn't illuminate anything, but she didn't immediately give any explanation. He was on the brink of asking her again, or possibly just hanging up, when the words exploded out of her.

"You RSVPed no."

Tyler rolled his eyes, even though she wasn't there to see it. "Then I probably meant no."

"I get that, dumbass. Why did you say no?"

 _Dumbass_ was a bit offside given that she'd been the one to apparently fail to understand what a timely RSVP of 'no' meant. Not to mention a bit juvenile for a woman of her age. Tyler wisely decided that neither of those things would be considered a wise response.

"I have an ethical objection to that sort of thing. You know that."

This time, her scoff was even louder and Tyler actually pulled the phone away from his ear in preparation to hang up, but thought better of it as he heard her speak, and dutifully raised the phone again.

"To what exactly, Tyler? To charity? Parties? Me having birthdays?"

"To masquerades." Disdain dripped from every syllable. "I don't do events where you can't see my face. And I'm not striking up conversation with anyone who doesn't have the decency to show me what they look like."

"Tyler?" Summer's voice was soft and sweet, and that was highly suspicious, in and of itself. "Have you ever considered that there might be value in learning how to judge people on things other than appearance?"

That was a stupid question.

"No."

" _Tyler._ "

He squirmed, even though she wasn't there to see his reaction.

"Stop saying my name."

"You're coming."

The call disconnected before he had a chance to say anything else. Tyler stared at the phone screen moodily for a moment, then tapped out a rather lengthy, unkind message in all caps. Then he erased the diatribe, and simply sent back a few simple words.

 _I'm not wearing a mask._

Summer looked disapproving when she came to pick him up, but didn't say anything. At least, he suspected that the look was supposed to be disapproving. It was difficult to tell when most of her face was covered by feathers. The gaggle of girlfriends that overloaded the back of the limousine were not generally so respectful of his decision, but he stared at his phone screen resolutely rather than indulge their squawking.

"Tyler, you're being rude," Summer hissed in his ear, as they started to pile out of the vehicle at their destination. Her freshly manicured nails dug into the skin of his wrist just hard enough to give him pause, just soft enough that he couldn't very well complain about it. "You shouldn't have come if you were just going to be on your phone all night."

He opened his mouth to complain that was exactly what his original plan had been, but by the time the words had begun to form, she'd already disappeared from his side and been whisked away by some giggly fool he wasn't sure he'd recognize even if they weren't mostly covered up.

They'd paid for a table for ten, and Tyler was fairly certain from past experience that would mean Summer, five or six of Summer's closest female friends, a boyfriend or two… And him. If being on his phone was intolerable to her in the limo, he was fairly sure it would be an even worse offense over dinner. There were other people there as well, table after table of strangers decked out in bright colours here to either support the charity or have a nice night out where no one had to look at them. That didn't seem like any kind of improvement.

What was the charity again? Had Summer even told him? Well, no point wondering. Someone would talk about it at length before the night was over.

"So how long have you two been seeing each other?" A voice trilled in Tyler's ear as he awkwardly took a seat. The voice didn't sound familiar, but that didn't mean a lot. He didn't waste valuable memory space on most of Summer's friends.

"Who?" He asked, distractedly. His fingers were itching for his phone again. Maybe he could get away with it if he pretended he was taking a picture of the centrepiece.

"You and _Summer_ , silly!" Either she'd been pre-drinking, or she was a level of obnoxious that surpassed most people Tyler knew. That was a worrying possibility.

"We're not a couple." His voice was weary, and a little guarded. Fingers closed around the phone in his pocket. It was coming out immediately if the girl next to him opened her mouth again.

She leaned in close, and laughed in his ear. Tyler's nose wrinkled; definitely pre-drinking. What fun.

Some words began to form beside him, and his phone was raised with the camera open before he had to pretend to be listening. The lighting was fairly harsh, so it took a little longer than he expected to find the perfect selfie angle. His hair was hanging kind of limply, and his lips curled into a displeased frown. Maybe he should have gone with the ponytail instead of the half-up style. It suited his face having his hair framing it, but only if his hair was in a mood to cooperate.

Some oaf on the other side of him had clearly not taken the hint, however. He smelled of cheap anti-perspirant, and hadn't done a thing with his hair despite it being almost as long as Tyler's. He got about three words deep before Tyler shot to his feet, kicking the chair back under the table as he stepped away. No point offering an excuse, they'd figure it out.

Summer would probably have called his behaviour thus far hopelessly rude, but there was no call for actual legitimate rudeness. She was still on her feet, making conversation with someone Tyler couldn't have possibly hoped to recognize. He slipped an arm around Summer's waist from behind, and laughed, really sincerely laughed, as she jumped in fright then turned around to smack him on the arm once she realized who was touching her.

"You want a drink? I'm buying."

"It's an open bar."

Tyler rolled his eyes. Well, fuck him for trying to be good, right? "I'm… delivering, then. Will you just let me be nice?"

"I don't trust you with nice," Summer said with a soft laugh. It was totally uncalled for since she was probably the only person in the room halfway worth being nice to, but he couldn't exactly fault the logic. "You know what I drink. Thank you."

The bar would at least take up enough of his time that maybe Summer's other guests would have struck up conversations amongst themselves in his absence. As he walked away from Summer, he was fairly sure he heard the word 'boyfriend', and some far too indignant reply from his best friend. He'd have to have words with her about that later. Maybe it was about time to remind her that once upon a time she'd seen his appeal. It must have been a whole week since he'd last tortured her over that.

His fingers drummed on the bar impatiently. Tyler had caught the bartender's eye, he knew he had, so it was baffling as well as irritating that he was still being made to wait. Sure, the guy's hands were full, but that shouldn't stop him from taking Tyler's order even if he couldn't actually fill it immediately. And was the other order really more important than his?

A shoulder brushed against him, and he pulled away from the contact immediately, though he didn't bother to look up at the culprit.

"Do you mind? Don't touch what you can't afford."

Of all reactions he'd expected, a deep laugh was not among them.

"Sorry, man. Didn't mean to." The stranger's voice sounded sincerely apologetic, so that eased Tyler's irritation a little. Not a lot, but enough. "You're not wearing a mask."

It was a statement, not a question. Tyler finally glanced over at the other man, cocking an eyebrow. He was prepared to make some sarcastic comment about his observational skills, but something caught his eye that rather changed his direction.

"You're not wearing a _shirt_."

That drew out another easy laugh, and Tyler couldn't help but crack a little smile in return. A part of him kind of wanted to take the stranger by the wrist and drag him over to Summer as a physical demonstration of what he could have done instead. He didn't, though. That would probably be weird.

"Yeeah." The man turned around to lean his elbows against the bar. Doing that arched his back just a little, highlighting the lines of his stomach muscles. "I figured if you can't see my face, I'd better make sure there's still a view to appreciate."

Despite himself, Tyler snorted at that. "I preferred the direct approach."

"Can't blame you for that."

Was that supposed to be flirting? Whether it was or not, there was no way to verify that his vanity was deserved, and talking to some masked figure who had been so forward as to touch him was breaking every one of Tyler's rules, so he didn't say anything. Instead, he raised his eyebrows slightly and turned away.

The bartender finally finished whatever concoction he'd been wasting his time with, and Tyler smoothly rattled off his order in one breath. Of course, the bartender had to ask him to repeat it, which he did, excruciatingly slowly. He could hear the masked, shirtless man laughing next to him again, a surprisingly pleasant sound that distracted a little from the roll of the bartender's eyes.

Out of the corner of his eye, Tyler could see that the shirtless man was still looking at him, head tilted to one side. Even if the mask was hiding something absolutely hideous, attention was attention, so Tyler permitted himself a small smile, reaching up to tuck a stray lock of hair back behind his ear.

"Having fun, there?" Tyler asked, as the bartender turned around to fix his drinks. He kept his voice light and easy, deliberately so.

"Does that bother you?" There was just a hint of challenge in the other man's voice, and there was definitely no mistaking the flirtatious undertones this time. Then again, that probably didn't mean much. The guy gave off a vibe like he flirted with anyone who crossed his path, just as a matter of course.

Tyler had to think for a moment before replying, and that hesitation was all it took before his drinks were handed to him, rather unceremoniously, with a bit of a scowl from the bartender. Good thing he hadn't really been planning to leave a tip anyway. He flashed a smile at the stranger, then thought better of it and winked, just slightly more provocatively than he'd normally permit himself, before walking away.

It would certainly amount to nothing, but there was nothing wrong with finding a little harmless fun in such a dreadful night out.


	2. Chapter 2

Tyler thought he could feel eyes on him as he weaved through the crowd back to Summer. To an extent, that was understandable, because he was probably the only person in the room who wasn't wearing a ridiculous mask, but there was more to it than that. He kind of hoped that one of the pairs of eyes was from the man at the bar, but he didn't want to turn his head to look just in case he was wrong. Or worse, what if he was right, and the shirtless one noticed him look back? That would put them entirely on the wrong footing.

It was with a needlessly eager hand that Summer reached out to take her drink from him, swirling her straw through the liquid. There was a sparkle in her eye that was either deeply suspicious, or the reflection of a sequin.

"So, I leave you alone for two minutes, and you're already chatting up shirtless men."

It would have served Summer right to have her drink tipped up over her gorgeous dress for that comment, but Tyler would never forgive himself for leaving a stain. Or for ruining his friend's birthday. That was also a consideration.

"Being chatted up by shirtless men," he corrected, a little lazily, taking a sip of his own drink.

Summer rolled her eyes at him, but didn't comment on the distinction. "Did he explain why he was shirtless, by any chance?"

"Wants to be looked at." Tyler shrugged, gesturing a little with the hand holding the drink. "I suppose. Those weren't his exact words."

There was a faint hint of judgement from beside him, but that wasn't worthy of comment. Summer's default state was judgement. It was one of the things they had in common. As he watched Summer take a sip through her straw, though, his mouth quirked into a smile.

"How are you planning on eating dinner, exactly? Your mask is ridiculous."

"I'll take it off while we eat," she retorted, though her eyes were still tracking movement over near the bar. Tyler was fairly sure he knew what she was looking at, though he would rather die than ask. Maybe he should have said something a little more direct before walking off.

"Why not go with one of those ones, you know, that just goes over your eyes and -"

"Tyler, you don't get to judge my mask choices. Not until you learn to play along." A brief pause, for another sip, before she continued. "He's still looking this way now and then. Since you're just itching to know."

"Don't be mean. I'm not itching to know anything."

Summer's evil little laugh was normally fun to listen to, but that was when it was directed at other people.

"If I was being mean, I'd make sure he saw me snuggle in with my hand on your ass." Tyler swatted at her with his free hand, but she leaned out of reach, laughing all the louder. "Don't tempt me."

"Just looking for an excuse to touch me, aren't you?" His heart wasn't really in the comment, but on principle, it needed saying. Summer's shoulder bumped against him, in something like irritated affection. He shifted his weight from foot to foot, then sighed. "Alright. Is he looking, like, interested? Or just enjoying the view?"

"How should I know? He's wearing a mask." Tyler frowned a little, but Summer made a soft, humming noise in her throat before adding, "If I had to guess, I'd say curious, but not definitely interested."

Tyler shrugged. Summer's guesses were usually closer to the mark than they had any right to be, and if that trend continued… well, that was an acceptable answer. It was about all he could reasonably expect from 20 seconds of charm. A thank you very nearly formed on his lips, but he was cut off by a tiny brunette sliding in between himself and Summer, almost jostling the Poco Grande glass out of his hand. It was only quick reflexes and a natural distrust of anyone entering his personal space that saved it. A warning look from Summer stopped him saying anything unkind; apparently, this was another one he was supposed to be able to recognize and forgive for minor slights.

She threw herself into Summer's arms for a warm hug, and Tyler took that as his cue to return to his seat. It couldn't possibly be that long before food started to roll out, and the night could get properly underway.

The master of ceremonies took his time about explaining the nature of the charity, something that went in one ear and out the other for Tyler, as dinner was brought out to the tables. His seat was something he could only describe as 'mystery chicken', but the warning kick under the table from Summer silenced any commentary he had on the subject. In theory, what he should have been doing was making pleasant conversation, but no one was talking to him and that was thrilling, so he wasn't about to ruin it for himself by opening his mouth.

After some consideration, he was able to choke down a few mouthfuls of the chicken, which wasn't quite as bad as he feared. Not that it was good, but Tyler had an unfortunately vivid imagination when it came to food.

Gradually, he became aware that someone was talking to him. Or, at least, he assumed that they were - Summer had kicked him again under the table and motioned her head towards the seat next to him. Tyler sort of wished she hadn't taken the mask off to eat, because she was a lot easier to ignore when he couldn't see her expression. He turned to the girl next to him, the one he'd mentally named 'Pre-drinker', and forced a small smile.

"Didn't catch that?"

"I said, what do you do for a living?" She didn't look the slightest bit upset at having been ignored. Maybe she hadn't noticed.

"Oh. I model."

She looked confused, for a moment, then her eyes lit up with understanding. "Oh! Oh, I can see that. You look like you'd be good at that."

Tyler had absolutely no idea what to say to that, so he just nodded politely, forcing another mouthful of the chicken down to cover up his lack of inclination to say anything. He needn't have bothered; she kept going anyway.

"So you'd have to be in, like, really good shape, huh? You look like you are. Do you go to the gym a lot?" One of her hands reached out and squeezed his upper arm lightly. Tyler closed his eyes and forced himself to breathe carefully, slowly, and count to three.

"Mmhm. Well, not a lot. But I keep in shape."

"It's working, whatever you're doing." She giggled, and even though Tyler wasn't looking her way, he just knew from her tone of voice that she was fluttering her eyelashes at him. Her hand dropped to Tyler's thigh, and he jerked away at the contact. God, save him from handsy drunks.

Summer cleared her throat loudly and shot a look across the table at the two of them. It wasn't God, but it was appreciated anyway.

"Honey, stop touching Tyler." Her tone of voice was patient and soft, like she was talking to a rambunctious child. "He's a misanthrope." Okay, perhaps a rambunctious child with a large vocabulary.

"He's a what?" The pre-drinker's eyes were wide and confused.

"It means I don't like people in my personal space." For Summer's sake, Tyler kept his voice as even as possible. He knew some irritation was seeping through, but judging from the understanding look in Summer's eye, he'd managed at least to keep it to an acceptable level. He glanced sideways at the girl next to him. She looked reproachful, so he asked, a little wearily, "So, what do you do for a living?"

Tyler politely maintained a pretend interest in the conversation until a waiter came by to clear the table. He pushed his plate away, even though it was still quite full, nodding to the waitstaff. They didn't bother asking him if there had been a problem with his food, which was a little disappointing, but no less than he'd expected.

It must have been at least thirty minutes since he'd last checked his phone. He could probably get away with at least a few minutes on social media without attracting too much ire.

The master of ceremonies cracked a few more bad jokes into the microphone. Tyler didn't bother even pretending to listen. A band struck up, and there was a chorus of giggles from the table as, one by one, masks returned to faces and seats were emptied around him. Movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention, and he looked up. Someone had spoken to him again, was standing next to him holding their hand out expectantly.

"Dancing counts as entering my personal space." His lip quirked into a small smile. The pre-drinker (he was going to have to learn her name, even he was starting to think he was being a little unkind to her with that nickname) looked confused, and a little hurt, but he maintained the awkward eye contact until she dropped her hand and walked away.

Tyler idly scrolled through his feed. Nothing interesting was happening to anyone else, either, from the looks of things. Maybe he should try to spice up everyone's evening a little with a picture - but then again, he hadn't been happy with the selfie he'd taken earlier, and nothing would have changed in the past hour to make it any better.

He was the only one left at the table. Even the oaf on the other side of him had gotten up, even though Tyler was quite sure he couldn't possibly be dancing. The floor might crack. Maybe he'd gone out for a cigarette, or to the bar. Bar. Actually, that didn't sound like a terrible idea. Had someone asked him to stay there, though, and keep an eye on everyone's possessions? He couldn't remember anyone having spoken to him to ask him such a thing, but to be honest, that didn't mean they hadn't. After a few minutes of weighing up options, Tyler began to push his chair away from the table, when a movement beside him again caught his attention.

Someone had settled into the seat beside him, sideways in the chair. They were holding a margarita glass in one hand, proffering a Poco Grande glass with the other.

"I had a guess," the shirtless man said. "It's nice to meet you."


	3. Chapter 3

The offered drink was more or less what Tyler would have wanted, though a little more booze-forward than he preferred. That could have been the bartender being heavy-handed, or maybe it had been ordered extra strong. Either seemed plausible. It wasn't worth complaining about, though. He wasn't exactly going to refuse to drink it. A stranger had brought him a drink after 20 seconds of conversation and a provocative smile, so the least Tyler could do was accept.

"So what's your name?" Tyler asked, stretching his legs out under the table, and gaze drifting over the dancefloor. Partly because he was sort of curious where Summer had gotten herself to, and mostly because he didn't want to be caught staring at the man's abs, which was probably what would end up happening if he happened to glance that way. Better to remove temptation entirely.

"Fandango."

A sip of Tyler's cocktail went up his nose as he completely failed to keep his composure. The resulting coughing and spluttering fit took a while to clear, even as the alleged Fandango patted him on the back to help things along. What a marvelous impression Tyler was making.

"That's not a name," Tyler choked out, once he was able to speak again, wiping his face with a napkin. "You're not telling me that's your real, legal name."

Fandango didn't say anything, but when Tyler chanced a glance his way, he could see that he was smiling. The other upside of having been resolutely looking away was that at least Tyler hadn't spat his drink all over the man's bare chest. That would probably have been impossible to recover from. As it was, it was difficult to gauge how much damage control the situation required. Chalk that up as reason 14 to disapprove of masquerades; non-verbal cues became a lot harder to read. Even perfectly chiseled abs like Fandango's couldn't show emotion.

"I'm Tyler," he said, after a pause that was slightly too long. After another, much shorter, pause, he remembered himself and offered his hand. Fandango shook it without hesitation. His grip was strong and firm, but as he withdrew, there seemed to be just a slight tremor of uncertainty, and he cleared his throat softly.

"That woman you were -"

"We're not a couple." Tyler tried to hold back the roll of his eyes, covering it up with another sip of his drink. It was pretty good, despite his initial disapproval.

"Good."

That seemed like an odd response, but Tyler didn't particularly fancy speculating on what it meant. Either the man meant something by it or he didn't, and it would become apparent which was which sooner or later. He looked over at Fandango again. His shirtlessness had been distracting enough that Tyler hadn't really taken the time to assess his looks properly, before. A purple and gold mask covered from his hairline to his nose, but that didn't leave nothing to look at. He had nice hair, in addition to a nice body, and the line of his jaw was - well, without seeing the rest of his face, Tyler couldn't exactly say it was appealing, but it was a good start.

A flush rose in his cheeks as he realised Fandango was still talking, and he'd been completely ignoring it. Well, the colour he could blame on the alcohol and the harsh lighting, at least.

"...dragged you here, though?"

"It's her birthday." Tyler had to just hazard a guess at the beginning of the sentence. Fandango didn't seem to think anything was odd about what he'd said, so Tyler went on. "And it's important to her that I be nice at least once a year. I take it you're not here by your own choice either?"

"No. Same boat, from the sounds of things." He didn't elaborate, which was a bit of a shame. His voice made Tyler regret not listening more attentively to begin with.

Tyler made a soft noise of agreement, rather hoping that would prompt Fandango to keep talking. That didn't seem to have any effect, but Fandango was still looking at him. Intently, at that. It was borderline uncomfortable, because usually Tyler had an easy way to assess how he felt about being so blatantly looked at, and only being able to see the person from the mouth down was interfering with that system. Not knowing what else to say, Tyler took another sip of his drink. It was going down a little too easily, given how strong it tasted. He made a mental note to ease up.

"Is it good?" Fandango's voice snapped Tyler out of his reverie again, and he glanced over again in confusion. Fandango nodded his head towards the glass in Tyler's hand, still three-quarters full of the unnaturally coloured alcohol.

"It's fine," Tyler replied, swirling the liquid around the glass, just for something to do with his hands.

"Only fine?"

"I have high standards, I suppose." It wasn't the most polite thing to say, but either Fandango wasn't offended, or he was concealing the offense beneath the hopelessly tacky mask. His comment had definitely earned a smirk, and that was probably a good sign.

"I have no problem with high standards."

The words themselves weren't particularly provocative - in fact, it was a nice sentiment - but if a voice could leer, Fandango's was. Tyler permitted himself a small smile as he shifted his position in his chair. He picked up his drink again, then put it back down. No, he'd told himself to go easy.

"Then you'll love me." As the words fell from his lips, his smile turned into an outright grin. He didn't dare look over to see if his words were having the desired effect. If he was caught looking, that might throw the whole thing off-balance again.

"Confidence is even sexier."

Tyler suppressed the laugh. There was no question, none at all; that was meant to be a come-on. The only way it could have been more blatant is if he'd outright suggested they sneak off to the cloakroom for a quick fuck between courses. Worse still, Tyler was starting to suspect that on the balance of it, he didn't mind so much. He still couldn't possibly let it be seen that he was melting to Fandango's charm all that easily.

"Direct. But you don't think you're up to my standards, do you?"

That might have been the end of it, because Tyler knew his voice carried a finality and a challenge that would send most people on their way, and he could see Fandango shift out of the corner of his eye. A third voice entered the conversation, however, interrupting whatever Fandango might have said or done next. That was not part of the plan.

"Tyler, can - oh, hello, Tyler's friend!"

The tiny brunette with a squeak attached to her voice hesitated as she leaned over the table, her eyes blatantly skating over Fandango's shirtless figure. It was hard to blame her for that, but there was such a thing as subtlety. Granted, a man who went to formal events shirtless probably wasn't inclined to care about other people's subtlety, but some people did.

"Hello to you, Tyler's other friend," Fandango replied, his voice warm and clearly filled with amusement.

"I don't mean to interrupt, I just…" Her voice faltered into a giggle, and Tyler was fairly sure she was blushing. Not that he could see her face properly, but he could practically hear the blush in her voice. "I just, um… can you pass me my purse?"

She leaned forward again to point, and it really wouldn't have killed her to walk around the table and get it herself, but Tyler also got the distinct impression that it wasn't what she had originally been planning to say at all. Fandango didn't seem to have noticed or be bothered, though. He was still smiling widely, and if Tyler wasn't very much mistaken, his eyes had flickered down to her neckline when she leaned forward.

Well, didn't that put Tyler in his place? He took a needlessly large gulp of his cocktail. The alcohol stung his throat, and he made a face. Perhaps it wasn't a heavy pour after all; it might just be badly mixed.

Fandango laughed, a deep, pleasant sound, but Tyler was no longer prepared to care. Wasn't it just his luck that the closest thing to interesting at the party would turn out to have no actual taste? Perhaps Tyler shouldn't have laughed so hard at his name. Perhaps he shouldn't have given the time of day to an outrageous flirt who was improperly dressed.

He could feel the grand sulk setting in, and Summer's birthday wasn't enough to stop him from letting it.

By the time he realised that Fandango was still sitting next to him, and still trying to talk to him, his glass was empty. Tyler supposed it must have been pretty good after all, though he also suspected that he shouldn't try standing up too quickly. That was a problem, because dramatically swooping away from someone who wasn't even willing to finish trying to flirt with him before turning his attention to someone else rather relied on being able to get to his feet without stumbling. He could probably still manage it, but he didn't want to bank his reputation on 'probably'.

Instead, he glanced over at Fandango. There was no problem meeting his eye without distraction now.

"She's gone now." Tyler's voice was icy, and he took some pleasure in noticing that.

"You're still here."


End file.
